


Storm of Spirits: Combat Zone

by moriturus



Series: Storm of Spirits Universe [4]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24902569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriturus/pseuds/moriturus
Summary: What would happen if someone attempted to attack Elsa, long after she'd mastered all her powers? What would happen if it were substantially similar to the attack that killed her in the past?
Relationships: Anna/Elsa (Disney)
Series: Storm of Spirits Universe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930960
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Storm of Spirits Universe





	Storm of Spirits: Combat Zone

_Warnings: violence, assault with a knife._

This story takes place in the Storm of Spirits universe. If you haven’t read it, it will probably not make a ton of sense, so start there.

FFN: www.fanfiction.net/s/13562654/1/Storm-of-Spirits

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/23586097/chapters/56592682

* * *

# Storm of Spirits: Combat Zone

_Boston, 1974_

The smell is the most noticeable. Cigarettes. Liquor. Pot. Urine. Hints of blood and other bodily fluids. But most of all, a peculiar combination of decadence and desperation. Elsa walks down Washington Street in the light evening rain, stepping over the occasional prone body and dodging drunken passersby clinging to each other.

She giggles to herself quietly, briefly looking up at the sign on the Pilgrim Theater. “First Run Hit, Psycho Sex” flashes the raunchy theater’s front, with a small “No One Under 21 Admitted” at the ticket booth. If only they knew how old she actually was. More drunkards loiter in front of The Tasty, a burger and hot dog joint that’s Anna’s favorite lunch spot on busy days.

Anna has been working at New England Medical Center, expanding her skills in pediatric medicine. They’d moved to Boston in the late 1960s for a change of scenery, and Anna’s background in nursing made her an ideal candidate for the Floating Hospital for Children, so it was easy work for her. Elsa smiled; Anna’s passion for pediatrics hadn’t changed since the 1940s.

And there was plenty of work to be had; the city struggled in good times and this year was anything but. Ever since Richard Nixon had taken office, a recession gripped the country. Children in cities like Boston were always hard hit, more so for the poor and minority. In typical fashion, Elsa chuckled, Anna’s presence in the pediatric emergency room helped kids get well and safe faster than any other medical facility in the area.

Lost in her reverie and reflection, she failed to notice the man in dirty plaid pants and a tattered button-down shirt following her for the block, his flat cap pulled low over his eyes, rusty hair sticking out from the sides. It wasn’t until she saw his reflection in the window of Dino’s Pizza House that his presence intruded in her mind.

Elsa sighed. The hardest part of having powers was the restraint to use them, but decades of practice allowed her to contain her frustration and do only the minimum she needed to keep safe. She walked a little faster and felt her pursuer increase his pace. As she passed a blonde prostitute with absurdly done-up hair, she thought to herself, _better me than you, sister_.

Her attacker waited until after the intersection, then grabbed her by the jacket sleeve. Elsa stopped and turned, an impatient look on her face. “Yes?” she snapped.

The attacker froze for a moment. This was not the reaction he was expecting or wanting. Shaking off his surprise, he grabbed Elsa’s raincoat lapels and tried to pull her close, but she didn’t move. He snarled, “Give me your money, bitch!”

“If you leave me alone, I’ll let you walk away,” she said in a flat, toneless voice. The only startling thing about this man was his face. He bore a passing resemblance to someone she hadn’t thought about in over a hundred years, a wayward prince of the Southern Isles. It wasn’t exactly him; the nose was bent and larger than Hans’, and his eyes were brown instead of green.

“Fuck you, cunt!” he shouted, spittle and alcohol residue flying out of his mouth. He let go with one hand and fumbled to pull out a small switchblade. “Now give me your fucking money or I swear to God I’ll fucking cut your tits off!”

Cold rage flared inside Elsa, distant memories of her battle with the Deathlord and how Hans’ corpse caught her by surprise. Not again. She would never be caught off guard in any kind of confrontation, and she hadn’t since that day. Seeing Anna crawling across the ground, struggling to reach her… never again. If an aggressor didn’t immediately knock her out or kill her, there was no stopping her.

Her rage settled down as she remembered her surroundings. Despite being able to do pretty much anything to this lowlife thug, she had to restrain herself, avoid drawing attention to her powers. She could have a little fun - he was drunk, after all - but not enough to cause a sensation.

Elsa smirked and spread her arms wide, inviting him.

The drunk stabbed…

… and the cheap knife shattered on her shirt. In the blink of an eye, Elsa summoned the earth spirit’s power and turned her shirt to stone, easily deflecting the cheap steel. The drunk momentarily stared at the broken blade, mystified.

“I learned that lesson a long time ago, punk. A man who grabs me with a knife doesn’t get a free shot,” she hissed. She balled up her right hand into a fist, coated it with an inch of ice, and punched the drunk instantly unconscious.

Such scenes were common in the Combat Zone, fights breaking out all the time. No one gave them a second look. She dragged his limp body to an empty storefront, summoned the earth spirit once more, and used its power to warp the anti-theft fence from the storefront around the attacker’s body, imprisoning his arms, head, and torso in a cage of iron.

It would take the Boston Police Department the better part of the next day to cut him free.

* * *

“So, anything interesting happen today?” Anna asked lightly, as they strolled down Beacon Street’s gas-lit lamps, arm in arm. She loved evening walks, even in the rain, and no walk was better than one with Elsa. Boston remained mostly intolerant of homosexuality for the most part, but no one gave a second glance to two young women who appeared to be sisters, only a few blocks from a half dozen universities.

Elsa laughed. “Not particularly. Someone tried to mug me on my way to pick you up-”

“WHAT? Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Anna came to a dead stop and instinctively started patting all over Elsa’s body, looking for injuries. Her sister was still vulnerable to injury, and despite caution and care over decades, she still worried about her safety and health.

“Anna! Anna, stop! I’m fine!” Elsa squirmed. “Really, I’m fine! He’s probably going to wake up with a headache, but I’m really okay.” She pirouetted for Anna. “The only thing wrong is that he got my coat a little dirty, that’s all.”

“Elsa, you have-” Anna started, before Elsa interrupted.

“-to be careful, I don’t have your healing abilities, I know, Anna. I really am fine, I was in no danger at all. I promise I’ll keep taking care of myself,” she smiled. Yes, she wasn’t able to heal instantly like Anna could, but her powers still gave her substantial resilience, enough that even a gunshot wound would likely only slow her down if it wasn’t instantly fatal, not that she’d ever want to put that to the test.

They found their way to their apartment, a brownstone on Beacon Street just feet from Storrow Drive and the Charles River. Anna unlocked the door, then gallantly held it for Elsa, suppressing a giggle. They settled down to an easy dinner together, some sandwiches from LaGrassa’s and a couple of glasses of wine, and watched the rain gently fall on Storrow Drive’s winding paths.

“So… what exactly happened?” Anna asked in between bites of her Turkey Rachael, a drop of Russian dressing clinging to the side of her mouth.

Elsa recounted the tale of the mugger, stopping halfway through to swipe the dressing off Anna’s mouth with her thumb. Anna mischievously grabbed Elsa’s thumb and sucked the condiment from it, causing her sister to lose her place in the story for a long moment before resuming.

“So this guy who looks a little like Hans is currently handcuffed to a fence in the Combat Zone?” Anna said, amused. She had little sympathy for anyone attacking someone who looked like an easy mark, such as a single woman walking down the street. Bad luck for not-Hans to have picked a demigod to attack. He was lucky that was all Elsa had done to him, and not shattered him into oblivion. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; Anna thought back to when Elsa destroyed the Deathlord’s minion by turning him into ice and then watching him flurry away.

Elsa nodded as she sipped her wine, a small smile on her face. “Sometimes, the consequences for your actions are a little more… immediate.” She took a bite of her tuna fish sandwich. It was a far cry from her favorite, but America didn’t share Norway’s - or her - love of pickled herring.

“Do you ever think about making those consequences… more obvious?” Anna mused.

“What do you mean?”

Anna paused to gather her thoughts. “Some of the things we’ve seen over the years… we - especially you - had the power to change. Righting wrongs, fixing injustice, helping people be better…”

“Anna, you know why we can’t do that more boldly,” Elsa chided.

“I know, I know. We don’t want to end up as lab rats in some government facility, though honestly I doubt they could stop us,” she grumbled.

“There’s another reason,” Elsa whispered.

Anna turned to look at her sister’s haunted expression. “What… you never mentioned this before, Elsa. What is it?”

Elsa sighed, pulling her knees to her chest. “The Deathlord.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Before he was… the Deathlord, he was a fifth spirit, remember? Then he became… proud. Ambitious. He thought he knew what was right for everyone, what the world should have been like - and look what he became.” Elsa shuddered. “I can’t - I won’t be that, Anna. Because if I did, I would lose myself, and I would lose you. And I can’t bear that thought.”

Anna bowed her head. “You’re right. Giving in to that… temptation would be easy. Too easy. I… I just want to help people.”

Elsa relaxed and drew her sister into a tight hug. “You wouldn’t be my Anna if you didn’t want to help people. It’s one of the many, many reasons I’ll love you forever. We’ll keep helping people, keep using our powers where we can, without drawing attention to ourselves. I just don’t want us to become something… other than what we are.”

“Keep being people’s good luck charms?” Anna grinned.

“You’re my good luck charm, sis.”

Elsa pulled Anna into a deep, smothering kiss.

* * *

## Author’s Notes

What would happen if someone attempted to attack Elsa, long after she’d mastered all her powers? What would happen if it were substantially similar to the attack that killed her in the past? This one-shot is a little slice of life exploring it and also answering the question about why the sisters, demigods in their own rights, wouldn’t have been more obvious throughout world history.

* * *

### Join The Party

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